all Adamantine Men have always done. You may tell the speaker and the council if you wish.'
Jehal's smile didn't change. 'I think the idea is that you do this with a few thousand of your Adamantine Men lined up at your back. A show of the speaker's strength, if you like, to counter Valmeyan's predictably portentous arrival.' He glanced down. 'I would say you have a few minutes yet before his dragons reach the gates. I do hope that's enough.'
Here came that flashing vision again, except this time Vale simply saw himself smashing every last one of the Viper's teeth as well. Oh, how I look forward to the day when I can cut that condescending grin off your lips. His eyes narrowed in concentration. A few minutes to call four legions or more of men down from the walls and into formation. We can only thank the Flame that the Dragon Gates are already manned and prepared… Jehal didn't even move. Just stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching and smiling. Grinning like a snake. Fine. Then see why we are feared as we are. He whistled. Loudly. Loudly enough to see Jehal flinch, which was at least some small consolation. Across the walls, his soldiers turned to look, waiting for his orders. He made three clear gestures. All legions. Guard of honour. Immediately. Then he pointed down at the gates. The soldiers with him on the walls didn't need any telling. They were already sprinting to the nearest legion commanders in case they hadn't seen the signal. Stupid, stripping the walls for a mere ceremony with so many dragons camped around the palace. Surely a single legion would have done? He wondered then whether Jehal had exaggerated, or even made up the speaker's order on some whim of his own. He didn't think so. It had all the usual thoughtlessness he'd come to expect from Speaker Zafir.
It's not my place to question such things. All across the palace walls he could see his order take effect. Soldiers were leaving their posts and streaming down ladders and stairs.
'It's very impressive.' Jehal was still grinning. 'They're very attentive to you, Night Watchman.'
'We obey without hesitation or question, Your Highness. That is our way. All of us. Such obedience is necessary to survive when the enemy breathes fire.' Jehal was in the way. Vale almost had to push past him to get off the tower and down the steps into the vast space of the Gateyard. By the time he got there, hundreds of soldiers were already massing into orderly ranks, each man knowing exactly his place within his own legion. With a few curt snaps of his hands he made small adjustments to the legion positions as they continued to form. He almost didn't notice that Jehal had followed him.
'It's like watching a master puppeteer at his work. Or a wizard. Does it not leave a mark on you, Night Watchman, to wield such power with a simple wave of your hands?'
If I was a wizard then I would wave my hands and flick you away as if brushing a fleck of shit from my sleeve. Vale bowed. 'This is the power of the speaker, Your Highness. Not mine.' And I don't have the time to have some mongrel prince dancing at my heels. 'All is well in hand. Please do not allow me to deter you from your business. If it pleases you, you may tell the speaker that the honour guard will be ready. I will have the gates opened for King Valmeyan as he approaches.'
Prince Jehal pursed his lips and took a sharp breath. 'Pithy, Night Watchman. You mean surely there is something more useful I should be doing, and please could I get out of your way.'
'Not at all, Your Highness.' Although if you're in an obliging frame of mind, perhaps you could cut yourself on your own tongue and choke to death on your own blood. It would be an inconvenience to clear up such a mess but I dare say it could be done in time. Vale marched briskly towards the gates. Still Jehal stayed with him, raising an eyebrow in his wake.
'Well, if I'm truly not distracting you from your duties, the truth is that I have none of my own and my curiosity compels me to remain. I would see the face of this King of the Crags for myself.'
'It will be the same face in the council of kings and queens, I don't doubt.' Vale clenched his teeth. There, see. Now you've made me show my impatience with you. Is that what you wanted? Can you take your little victory and go away now?
'Doubtless it will. But as I'm sure you are aware, Night Watchman, I am not yet a king, and thus my presence is not re-quired. I am not sure I shall go.'
'My own opinions are worthless and insignificant but I have noted that Speaker Zafir seems to value yours, Your Highness.' Vale waved his hands again, shilling the front legions apart. They would need more space to allow Valmeyan's dragons to pass between them. Then he snapped a hand towards the immense gates, which immediately began to open. Outside, King Valmeyan's dragons were less than a hundred yards from the palace. He fought back the urge to look over his shoulder, to make sure that his legions were perfect. Of course they were perfect.
Inch by inch the gates ground open, a hundred men pulling on each of them. Vale walked forward and stopped inside their shadow. The first of the dragons stepped into the space in front of him, seeming to squeeze itself down to fit beneath the colossal Gatehouse arch. It stopped, its head a few feet away from his own. He smelled its breath, hot and rank. The creature had golden eyes as large as his head, teeth as long as his leg, a head the size of a horse and a body as big as a barn. A true monster, as large a war-dragon as he'd ever seen. The sort of creature that could smash down even the mighty Gatehouse towers simply by crashing into them. It made him tiny, and as it lowered its head to look at him, it sniffed and its lips twitched, as if to remind him that a dragon this size was always, always hungry.
And here, Vale knew, was his strength, the strength of every man behind him. For where any normal man would be shaking and quaking and pissing his pants, he stood still, solid and unmoved. He looked for the fear that any normal man should feel in the presence of such a monster and found nothing. Nothing at all.
The rider mounted on the war-dragon's neck took off his helm. Prince Tichane. Valmeyan's second son and ambassador to the palace.
'King Valmeyan,' roared Tichane. 'The King of the Crags answers the speaker's call.'
You should be begging to enter, as every other king begged to enter. And it was not a call but a summons. Vale bowed. Jehal was still beside him. And he wasn't shaking and quaking and pissing his pants either. 'The speaker welcomes you and bids you and yours to enter, under the ancient laws of hospitality,' Vale cried. He was about to move aside to let Tichane and his monster pass into the Gateyard, but suddenly Jehal had a hand on his shoulder.
'You may pass, Prince Tichane,' shouted Jehal. 'You and all those behind you. But no dragons save those of the speaker may enter the grounds of the Adamantine Palace. You should know that.' There was a very long silence.
'You did bring enough riders with you to walk all those poor beasts back to wherever they came from, I hope?'
Vale kept his face still. It was as well, he decided, that he'd had such extensive practice.
'You're also late,' said Jehal, loudly enough to carry well past Tichane to the riders behind him. 'The council convened at dawn. If you're lucky, they'll have waited. It would be a shame for such a grand entrance to be so utterly wasted.'
For long seconds, Prince Tichane didn't move. Then the dragon lowered its head even more, so that it touched the ground. Tichane opened the buckles on his harness and slid down to the ground. He ignored Vale and walked up to Jehal. Back outside the palace, other riders were dismounting.
'You're a rude nasty fellow this morning,' he said. Jehal gave him a florid bow.
'Be careful what you say, Tichane. You'll be calling me Your Holiness before you leave.'
'So I hear. So you are the speaker's mouthpiece today, Jehal. I suppose I should not be surprised. My father will be disappointed that she isn't here to greet him.'
Jehal replied with a sad shake of his head. 'If King Valmeyan wishes to set himself up as Zafir's equal, I'm afraid this disappointment will be the first of many. You may find yourself wishing you hadn't come.'
Tichane snorted. 'Then I will not be alone. Are we to run, then, since we are late?'
'Oh, I dare say a brisk walk will suffice.'
They walked away together, in between the perfect legions of the Adamantine Men and towards the Chamber of Audience. On the outside, the damage from the Red Riders' attack had been made good. On the inside though, the chamber still bore the scars. Vale watched them go and waited. He wasn't here for princes, he was here for a king. He had to wait for the rest of the riders outside the palace to arrange themselves. One by one the dragons were turned and walked away. Tit banc's was the last. When it left, two columns of riders marched through the gates. Vale studied them closely as they advanced. The rider at their head wore the same armour as the rest of them but he had an aura that Vale knew well. He was old for a rider too.
